It's Not Easy Being Green
by Bohemian Storm
Summary: (... The Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana). A spin off fic of 'Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit' and 'Diaries of a Dungeon Dwelling Moron'. Poor Herman's take on the whole Snape/Sinistra/Quirrell escapade.
1. Operation: Quirrell and Sinistra

**It's Not Easy Being Green**

_The Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana_

By Bohemian Storm

**Disclaimer:  **The following characters all belong to JKR in her complete and utter brilliance.  I'm not quite sure who owns Herman anymore.

**Notes:  **I can't even begin to explain this.  It's a spin off of two wonderful fics 'Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit' by She's a Star and 'Diaries of a Dungeon Dwelling Moron' by Gedia Kacela.  They are to blame for this insanity.

**Dedication:  **To the girls; Nita, Milla and Dia.  May Herman protect you.  *grins*

**Saturday, August 31, 1991******

**9:34 P.M.******

**Cage**

Quirrell insists on dragging me everywhere.  I'm an iguana for Merlin's sake, not a dog!  I don't _do the walk thing.  He certainly learned that lesson when he tried to put me on a leash and I bit him._

Repeatedly.

Not that I enjoyed it.  Much.

Honest.  He tastes like onions.

Point being he takes me wherever he can.  He would take me to the table at meals if Dumbledore allowed it and this time there was an iguana at the yearly staff meeting.  Lucky guy that I was, I learned all about the amazing, astounding, sparking, magical, magnificent, beautiful Philosopher's Stone.

If I could deadpan, I would.

Joy.

Besides the amazing, astounding - repeat all adjectives I used above – Philosopher's Stone I was witness to some of the most intense scowling and sneering I've seen in a very long time.  And if you've seen me, you know I'm a big iguana.  I'm old.  I've seen a lot of sneering, but none that could rival that of Severus Snape.  

Bastard.

Spent his evening sneering at that Starry-Eyed twit Sinistra.  As if she needed his eyes on her, she's messed up enough as is.  I recall hearing about her little . . . liason with Professor Sandersought two years ago.

Ah yes, the things one can hear if he's relatively small and green.  

Was relatively impressed with the twit's comeback of 'dungeon-dwelling hygienically ignorant moron'.

  

**9:39 P.M.******

McGonagall interrupted the fight.  Damn her.  It could have been interesting.  After all, I've never seen two people so obviously in love and so obviously fighting it.  They might have gone from words to fists and then deadly weapons.  

I've seen the twit with a coffee cup and she wields it like a sword.  

There could have been blood.

Not that I would have liked that.

**9:40 P.M.******

I'm an iguana, not a vampire.

**9:43 P.M.**

If anyone's a vampire it's the overgrown bat.  He scares even me.  An iguana.  What scares an iguana?

**9:44 P.M.******

Severus Snape, apparently.  Not that I'm dwelling on the fact that the bastard scares me.  He doesn't.  I'm just pointing out that if something did scare iguanas it might be a certain dungeon-dwelling moron.

That is a sharp little nickname.  I think I'll keep it.

Beginning to like the twit more and more.

**Monday, September 2, 1991******

**7:03 A.M.******

**Still the Cage**

He's noisy.  He's always noisy.  You think he'd realize he had a sleeping iguana in the room considering he carries me around like a doll.  It's early and he's noisy.

Bastard.  Though not such a bastard as Snape.  He wins that title.

Hah.

Yes . . . the highlight of my pitiful day.  Naming Severus Snape the Biggest Bastard Of Hogwarts.  I, Herman the Iguana, shall present the award to him the day I CAN WALK AND GROW ARMS.

Excuse me while I weep.

**8:56 A.M.******

Iguanas don't cry.  

Thought you ought to know.

**12:02 P.M.******

Overheard Sinistra muttering to herself today.  There was something about Sandersought (and if I could cackle, I would have . . . extensively and most likely evilly as well), more about Harry Potter (just a boy, I couldn't care less) and …

Shudder.

Destiny du Maurier.

Unfortunately I never had the chance to meet her.  Unfortunate, in that utterly sarcastic way iguanas have.  Quirrell reads her novels.

Aloud.

It's enough to make me want to claw out my ears.  

Have also changed my mind about not caring about Harry Potter.  How can one not care about the boy who will make Snape's life miserable day in and day out?  This will be a brilliant year, I kid you not.

Quirrell once told me of an episode he heard about when Snape was a student at Hogwarts.  It seems young Harry's father turned Snape's hair pink.  I must admit, to see that would be the highlight of my life.  

The overgrown bat . . . in pink.

Sigh.

How wonderful.  

Too bad I'm an iguana.  Damn.

**8:54 P.M.******

**Still In The Blasted Cage**

It's come to my attention that certain . . . members of the faculty (particularly those of the female persuasion) are head over heels in love with one Gilderoy Lockhart  I caught a glimpse of one of his books earlier on my morning walk.

(You tell _anyone _about that and I'll bite you more times than I bit Quirrell!)

He's nothing special.  Nothing compared to my own master, obviously.  

I find it sad that Quirrell doesn't date.  He should.  He's semi-young.  I'm not really a good judge of age seeing as I'll probably die in two years.  

But anyway . . .

Maybe I should try to set him up.  It might be a little difficult seeing as I'm a . . . do I even have to say it?  But that Sinistra twit might be an easy target.  She seems . . . desperate.

Buahahaha.

Operation: Quirrell and Sinistra is a go.

**8:57 P.M.******

Give me a break.  You think you could come up with a better code name in two seconds and write it down as quickly as I did?

Hah.  

Hahahaha.

I bet.

. . . How in the world _am _I writing this anyway?


	2. Infatuations and Nightly Walks

**It's Not Easy Being Green**

_The Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana_

Thanks so much for all the great reviews!  :D

**-Part II –**

**Monday, September 2, 1991******

**9:11 P.M.******

**Where Do You Think I Am?**

Operation: Quirrell and Sinistra has so far gone . . . absolutely nowhere.  I need time.  Also need to get out of this blasted cage.  Quirrell hasn't appeared for my nightly walk.  Of course he won't show up the one time I want to actually go somewhere.  

Bastard.

I need this walk.  I can drag him to the Astronomy tower during the lesson and wrap my leash around their legs like the dogs did that in silly children's movie.

_What?_  I'm an iguana, not a wizard.  I know that movies are and I've watched more than a few.  I learn from them, that's all.

I need this walk tonight.  The bastard better not ruin my plans.  

… Er, by bastard I mean Quirrell.  Snape is Bastard with a capital 'B'.  Quirrell is only worth a little 'b'.  He's not pure evil.

I do need this walk though, honestly.

My thighs are getting a little fat.

… **_Why_** am I telling a diary that my thighs are getting fat?  I must be losing it. 

I need sleep.

And a walk.

Bastard.  Small 'b'.

**11:43 P.M.******

The walk was an utter failure.  Don't ask, I can't bear to recall what happened.

**11:44 P.M.******

You think he would understand a simple tug of the leash, right?  You would think that a _professor would figure out when his iguana needs to go to the bathroom, right?  But noooooooooo, I get the man on the path to Sinistra's tower and there's no stopping him.  It was like a rampage and dammit, I had to pee!_

… Er …

Filch wasn't happy.

**11:53 P.M.******

Well, it's not like I did it on purpose?  I can't be held accountable for what happens if the man walking me doesn't pay attention.  

He should pay attention.

I could have done something horrible, like bitten someone.

I do bite, y'know.  I didn't tonight, but I could have and he never would have known.

He was on a warpath, I tell you.  Of course, after worming his way into the Astronomy tower he decided we ought to go visit Fluffy.  

**FLUFFY!**

Fluffy is a dog with three heads.  You think a human man would be terrified of one of those, but not my brave (stuttering) master.  He decides he needs to have a closer look.

He cried when I bit him, for Merlin's sake.  What would be do if that thing attacked?

I will never understand humans.

**Tuesday, September 3, 1991******

**10:23 A.M.******

**Quirrell's**** Office**

Times like these are the times I wish I could laugh.  Or sing.  Or do something that would remotely express the joy I feel right now.  I want to smile, tap dance, even, on the dungeon-dwelling moron's oversized nose.  

Coffee drenched nose, rather.

Buahahahahahahaha!  Sigh.

BUAHAHAHA!

Sigh.

**BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!**

Oh yeah, that's right.

How to explain what happened … how to explain to a piece of paper my immense joy at seeing what I saw this morning.  I don't know if there are words.  I like to think I have a pretty decent grasp of the English language (and I'm not sure how, so don't even ask) but I seriously doubt I can find the words.

One moment.

**_BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!_**

Okay, here goes …

Sorry, no, still laughing too hard.

**11:03 A.M.******

Am reasonably calmer now.  Will attempt to tell story that leaves me with alligator tears each and every time I even try to think about it.

Quirrell took me to the staff lounge, of course and I figured this was my perfect time to make Sinistra notice him.  I had it all planned, it was an elaborate scheme to make them fall madly in love with each other.

… Then she walked into the room and I knew that I couldn't put even Quirrell through that.  

She's looked better, needless to say.  I never thought anyone would dare to point it out to her, though.

Sigh.

One can always count on the dungeon-dwelling moron to rise to such an occasion.

He wrinkled his nose.  What a Bastard.  Actually wrinkled his nose and said to her, "My God, Auriga, you're no Veela normally, but … Really, today, you make Hagrid look attractive."

She's my hero, honestly.  Forget Quirrell, I think _I'm falling in love._

"Fuck off, you overgrown bat," was followed by a boiling cup of coffee hurled at him.  I always knew the woman was a menace with a coffee cup and now I have my proof.

It was beautiful.

I have found my soulmate.

**5:16 P.M.******

**Cage … Hiss**

He really is a Bastard, capital 'B' and all.  Not that I'm spying on them or anything … and it's not as if I'm infatuated with the twit.  

I'm not.

I was simply collecting information for my plan to have Quirrell and Sinistra fall deeply and madly in love with one another.  I escaped the cage.

Yes, it's true.  I, Herman, broke free of my bondage. 

**YES!**

Anyway …

I was in the library, skulking as one might say, watching the Sinistra woman mumbling to herself about stars.  Stare?  Starr?  Great Merlin, I'm an iguana and even I can spell star correctly.  S-T-A-R.  Must tell Sinistra about this sometime and I thought I would.

Of course, he got there first.

Bastard.

I think I might overuse the word Bastard … Nah.  One can't overuse a word like Bastard when describing a Bastard like Severus Snape.  It's simply not possible.

Bastard.

Anyway, she fell asleep and she looked … cute, even, minus the drool that was leaking out onto the diary of hers.  She kept mumbling things about stars and then … she talked about _him._  In her sleep she uttered his name.

I knew he would jeopardize the mission.  Dungeon-dwelling moron!

I think I like moron better now.  It's well suited to him.  Though, I will admit, it's far more suited to Quirrell and his extremely moronic ways.  Perhaps I'll take away his title of bastard with a small 'b' and simply refer to him as the moron from now on.

I really do love my master.

Now, the point of my story is this; Snape entered the library and made some sarcastic remark that I couldn't hear.  I was hidden under a bookshelf, give me a break.  There is only so much I can do given my special … circumstances.

Honestly, though, you think he would leave her alone, but not Snape.  He has to be a gentleman.

Sneer.

… No.  Tell me I did not just sneer.  NO.  I am not picking up his habits.

Oh Lord.

Right, gentlemen.  How disgusting, but definitely not worth a sneer.

(Note to self: erase sneer.)

He put his arm around her!  His arm!  It was around her shoulders!  Around her!  Don't you see?  He's destroying everything.

I know he likes it, it's painfully obvious, but he wasn't supposed to find out.

She belongs to ME, buahahaha… er … Quirrell.  She belongs to Quirrell.

Right.

Okay, then … g'night.


	3. I am not the pet of the Dark Lord's secr...

**Notes:** I realize that this is a very short chapter, but Herman ran out of interesting things to say.  Hopefully he'll live up to his full potential in the next chapter

**It's Not Easy Being Green**

_The Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana_

- **Part III –**

**Wednesday, September 4, 1991******

**11:46 A.M.******

**My Cage**

She was here!  You know of whom I speak.  The one.  The precioussss …

Er, yes.  Sinistra was here.  In this very classroom.  She stuck her head in and watched the moron teach.  I think my mission to get them together is going to fail miserably.  Besides the fact that I have fallen madly in love with the woman (I was going to try my mission anyway … I'm just noble like that, I know that she and I could never be together), she was staring at Quirrell with this odd little expression on her face.  

Like she thinks he's stupid or something.  I mean, he _is stupid (or something) but that's completely beside the point.  She's not supposed to know that.  She's supposed to think he's handsome and dashing and … and … and …_

Dammit, I need another good quality of Quirrell.

I can make one up, right?  I mean, I did make up the handsome and dashing part.

Okay, the moron is handsome and dashing and …

… and …

… **AND** …

Oh!

And he has an iguana.  You don't get much sexier than that.  

Right?  

**11:59 A.M.******

Not that this is remotely connected to anything I've mentioned above, but I've since realized that the Bastard attracts far too much unwanted female attention.  Quirrell explained to me a few days ago that Hooch's morning greeting of a hardy back slap went a little too low. 

On purpose.

Shudder.

Why, oh why does that have to happen?  I certainly hope that the lovely Sinistra would never fall for such underhanded tricks.  We all know that he secretly encourages such practices as … Gag … as … Shudder … as theslappingofSeverusSnape'sbum.

I think I need to wash my mouth out with soap.

He enjoys the extra attention a little too much, I think.  Not that it's my business, but I still think.  I'm allowed to think.

I'm cold.

Damn classroom.  It's drafty.

Bastard.

**7:43 P.M.******

Oh, dear Merlin.  I'm doomed.  That's it, the end is drawing near.  I can see my little tombstone already.  I am dead.  Dead.  D-E-A-D, _dead!_  I can't believe I didn't know.  I mean, sometimes he acts a little strange . . . for example, why would any man in his right mind want to go visit Fluffy at night?  Other than Hagrid, you would think people would choose to stay far, far away from a giant three headed dog.  But no, not my loving master.  He walks right into the room that Fluffy is using as a giant dog house and studies the damned thing.  I should have guessed already but apparently I'm too stupid to realize when I'm being raised by a secret agent of You-Know-Who!

. . . Er . . . you do know who, don't you?

Voldemort.

There, I wrote it.  I can feel the evil creeping over me already.  Shudder.  My Quirrell is an agent of the Dark Lord.  

Let's just hope no one overheard his little one-sided conversation with me earlier.  I myself wasn't paying much attention until I heard him mention Harry Potter.  What's not interesting about that boy?  He seems to go out of his way to make trouble for Snape and that is something I can definitely appreciate.

I like Harry Potter.  Haven't met the boy but I've decided that I like him.  Maybe I can set up Sinistra with him just to keep her away from Snape and **GOOD GOD what am I thinking?  He's just a boy and Quirrell is a follower of You-Know-Who.**

Perspective, Herman!

Right . . . anyway, back to when Quirrell mentioned Potter.  I thought he'd have a nice little one-sided chat about the boy and we'd get on with life.  I never thought he'd confess to trying to kill the poor child.  There was something about Quidditch (never much understand that game, but I'll save _that rant with a time when someone's not going to die) and a spell and … death.  Yes, death._

And not my death either.  Oh no, this time it's something above and beyond my precious life.

The death of an innocent child.

Wow.  I'm getting a little too serious.  I'm just an iguana, what can I do?

. . . NOTHING!  That's what I can do.  Absolutely nothing.  I have no weapons, just my teeth . . .

Wait a second . . .

. . . Hehehehe.  Let's hope Quirrell takes me to the game.  I'm really good at biting people.

**7:56 P.M.******

And I do not want to know what Snape was doing with a copy of 'In Style' magazine earlier today.  

I just don't.


	4. Speciesist!

**It's Not Easy Being Green**

_Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana_

**Notes:** Thanks again for the support of this incredibly insane fic.  I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds this iguana amusing.  

**-Part Four-**

**Friday, September 6, 1991******

**Cage**

**10:32 A.M.******

Snape was … looking at me today.  Just looking at me.  It's not my fault that my Ultra-Scary, Ultra-Powerful, Ultra-Creepy Secret Agent of The Dark Lord master brings me to meals is it?  I didn't _ask him to take me to breakfast and attempt to feed me little pieces of egg while I was under the table, did I?  Noooooo.  But the Bastard stares at me like I'm some kind of rodent.  Which I'm not, thank you very much.  It's annoying.  And creepy. _

… 

Well, it could be worse.  Severus Snape could be a Death Eater on the lam, hiding at Hogwarts and pretending that he's just spying for You-Know-Who when he's really spying _on You-Know-Who for Dumbledore._

… Nah.

He was probably thinking of all the ways he could kill me slowly and painfully, seeing as he must know now that I've been the one keeping him from the darling twit.  I mean the starry-eyed twit.  None of that darling stuff.  No.  None.  Ever.

Right, anyway … By this point Snape must be coming to some conclusions about me.  I'm always sneaking about and trying to put a stop to their secret meetings.  He's angry because he wants to BE WITH HER.

HE LOVES HER!

Err … right.  Well, I think he loves her even if he doesn't know it yet.  Or, as close as a man like Snape can get to love, I suppose.  It's probably more like a dull hatred.  That's right.  Dull hatred.  Close enough.

Whatever it is he feels I must keep them apart.  

… I wonder if Quirrell will take me to the staff meeting tonight.  If he does maybe I can find a way to communicate with Dumbledore and tell him all about Quirrell's eeeeeeevil plan to kill the young Harry Potter.

I can communicate, dammit.  I am writing a journal, after all.

**8:32 P.M.******

**Under Quirrell's Desk**

Well, he took me to the staff meeting and I tried really, really hard to tell Dumbledore what the Ultra-Scary, Ultra-Powerful, Ultra-Creepy, Secret Agent of the Dark Lord's plan was but the damnable old man wouldn't listen to me.  He eventually asked Quirrell to stop me from squeaking as I was interrupting the annual 'Which First Year Students Will End Up Together?' bet.  

I do not squeak!

Well, won't Dumbledore feel silly when Harry Potter is brutally murdered on the Quidditch pitch and everyone finds out that I was trying to tell him and he wouldn't listen to me because he's species-ist.  

That's right!  You heard me!  I'm tired of being discriminated against because I'm an iguana.  I have rights!  I have needs and desires.

Species-ist bastard.

In other news Snape tried to bet a hundred Galleons that Harry Potter would die before he graduated from Hogwarts.  Sigh.  The way things are looking right about now I wouldn't take him up on that bet for fear of losing my life savings.  

Dumbledore (species-ist as he is) supported my conviction that Snape is secretly in dull hatred with Sinistra.  He tried to bet on them ending up together before the end of the year.  

Yeah, well … we'll see about that won't we?  There won't be any of this 'ending up together' nonsense if Herman has his way.

… Oh.

Oh dear.

I'm in quite the predicament, aren't I?

To save Harry Potter from death or Auriga Sinistra from … a fate much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much worse than death?

What a decision.

**Saturday, September 7, 1991******

**12:35 P.M.******

**Wouldn't you like to know where I am you evil Secret Agent of the Dark Lord.? *glares***

Why doesn't anyone ever tell me anything?  Because I'm in iguana?  Don't even get me started on my rights once again.

Honestly.

I want to know when important stuff happens, I really, really do.

And frankly, I think it's just slightly important that I be told when someone tries to break into Gringotts Back in an attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone that been perfectly safe there for Merlin only knows how long already.

I want to know this stuff!

Because it's my damnable master that's trying to break in.

I'm frightened for my life.

…

Hold me?

**3:12 P.M.******

Right.

Okay.

Have recovered from that little outburst of fear and/or loathing. (I can't quite decide which.)  

Onto more important things.  I really need help on deciding which mission I should currently devote my life to.  Sinistra really seems to be falling for the **Bastard** lately … she's been all starry-eyed and twit-like.

Right.  Not that she's not like that normally but it's different now.

She likes him.  Shudder.

How and why I can't even begin to place my little green finger on but I can tell.  I need to get some serious word done on this mission if it's ever going to succeed.

Hmmm.  Maybe I can convince a house elf to fall in love with her.  At least she can speak to a house elf.

But wait … no, I must think about Harry Potter and his impending doom.  I need to find some way to stop this.  I can't rely on humans to ever stop something as serious as a death because, as we've discovered recently, humans are stupid and fall for Bastards and carry around copies of 'In Style' magazine and take bets on which students will die and write poems (I heard him asking Sinistra what rhymed with 'wine') and throw coffee mugs at people and keep giant three headed dogs for pets.

Humans are **stupid.**

Ha!  Looks like Dumbledore isn't the only species-ist bastard around anymore.  I can be one too.  So there.

…

I think I'm in need of severe mental help.

What kind of iguana tries to take on the love lives of two horribly hopeless people _and_ tries to prevent a Scary, Creepy, Powerful etc Secret Agent of You-Know-Who? 

Only Herman.

_Severe_ mental help.


	5. Herman the Iguana, Super Iguana

**It's Not Easy Being Green**

_Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana_

**Notes**:  For that darling anonymous review who has nothing better to do than accuse me of stealing titles, perhaps you ought to refresh your memory of the Muppets and one in particular named Kermit the Frog.  The creator, Jim Henson, wrote this song called 'It's Not Easy Being Green'.  Now, shoo.  

- **Part Five –**

**Sunday, September 8, 1991******

**9:34 A.M.******

**Cage**

I have never been so thoroughly disturbed in my entire, short, very sheltered life.  Never.

He was writing a poem.

Shudder.

A poem about Harry Potter dying, no less.  I _overheard_ him mumbling it under his breath at the breakfast table yesterday, testing out words that rhyme with 'ponder'.  Who in the world writes poetry about Harry Potter's death?  Someone really needs to get that guy a life because I'm just a little terrified of him.  If he's writing poems about Potter's death when the child has done absolutely nothing wrong, what do you suppose he might do to me when he finds out that I'm keeping him from dully hating Sinistra for the rest of his life?

. . . 

No.  It's too horrible to think about.  I mustn't get myself worked up like this.  If I don't start calming down soon and paying attention to my diet, my cholesterol is going to be through the roof!  I've already been to see a vet about this, thank you very much, but it's rather hard _not getting worked up when the following has happened to you in approximately two weeks._

1)    You start keeping a journal despite the fact that you're in iguana.

2)  You realize that Snape has a crush on ANYONE, let alone your own darling Sinistra.

3)  You develop a crush on said woman that Snape has a crush on.

4) You find out that your master is an evil agent of the Dark Lord.

5) You find out that he's going to kill Harry Potter, an innocent child!

6) You realize that you do, in fact, squeak.

Yeah.  So I squeak.  What're you going to do about it?  I'll tell you exactly what you'll do about it.  Nothing!  Because you're just a journal and you can't do anything at all.  So there!

Poetry about death.  Honestly.

**10:47 A.M.******

Snape just asked me where he could find a 'gone'.  What the hell is a 'gone' and why is he asking me?  It's an iguana, or have people stopped realizing that?

**11:34 A.M.******

For whatever reason, I wasn't good enough for the breakfast table today and got left behind in my bloody cage.  Quirrell practically came dancing into the room after the meal, though and then refused to tell me what had happened.  I've never seen that man _dance_ before, so it must be something awfully important to make him raise his robes and do a little jig on the desk.

Oh, shudder.

I never want to see that again and hope that the mental picture of it will be banished from my mind forever.

I think I'd rather see Snape dancing on a desk, Merlin forbid.

Yes, you heard me.  I'd rather see Snape dance any day.

. . . Oh, Merlin.

Maybe _I'm_ in love with him too . . .

. . . Well, whatever happened, I don't really want to know.  He's standing in front of a mirror, practically preening that damn turban.  He looks like someone told him it's attractive.

Who in their right mind would tell that man that his turban in attractive?

. . . 

. . . Oh, my.

. . . I think Operation: Quirrell and Sinistra has been a success!

**3:07 P.M.******

That **BASTARD!**

I HATE HIM.

I want to bite him hard enough that he'll lie on the floor and bleeeeeeeed to death sloooooooowly.

BASSSSSTAAAAARD!

**3:15 P.M.******

Right.  Am a little more calm now than I was a few minutes ago.  It's just that . . . Snape is a bastard.  Wait, Bastard, capital B, but you already knew that, didn't you?  I never thought he could sink any lower than he already was, but did he ever prove me wrong.

He sunk much, much lower than he already was.

And I think he tried to steal my copy of 'Iguanas Weekly'.  Bastard.

Anyway, the point of this story isn't that he tried to steal my magazine, though he can be certain I would have bitten his hand off if he'd succeeded.  The point of this story is to document the amazing events that happened today in this very room.  

Yes, this very room.

You may ooh and aaah appropriately.

He came into Quirrell's classroom, completely uninvited and first tried to steal my magazines before coming over to my cage and trying to steal me.  I'm not lying.  He actually looked down inside and I tried to send all my thoughts mentally . . . telepathically, whatever it is you call that special power.

'I will eat you!' and 'Touch me and I'll bite your finger off!' and my favourite, 'Bite your own fingers off!'.

None of them worked, apparently, as he decided to reach into my age and pick me up.  He just stood there, holding me at arm's length like the idiot he is.  Did he think I'm dirty, or something?  Was he afraid of my germs?

I happen to be a very clean iguana, thank you very much.

So, just to see if he's scream and drop me (although the floor was a very long drop), I turned my head, looked directly at him and flicked my tongue.

He pulled me closer after that.  Shudder.  I think the Bastard called me 'cuddly'.

I am not cuddly, thank you very much.  I'm a reptile!

I tried to make a threatening noise, but since all I can apparently do is squeak, I think he took it as a good noise and held me even closer.  Because my greatest disease in life is to be held against the chest of the most greasy looking man in all of Hogwarts.

. . . Riiiiight.

If things weren't bad enough right then and there, the door opened and I was terrified that Quirrell would find us together and Avada Kedavra both of us.  

Unfortunately for her, it was Sinistra.  Those are the times I wish I could do more than just squeak, dammit.  She came into the room, sat on the desk and . . .

Oh, Merlin, it's too painful.

She actually purred, "Oh . . . Slatero."

Snape stiffened, yes, I actually felt him stiffen and then I felt the unmistakable shake of laughter.  But he didn't laugh, the Bastard.  He didn't even tell her that she wasn't talking to Quirrell holding me, but Snape holding me.  She must have thought it was Quirrell because who else would be in his classroom with his iguana?

"I was wondering if we could have . . . a little chat."

There was that shake of laughter again.  What a Bastard.  He wanted her to make a fool out of herself and in that moment, I think I loved her even more.

Sigh.

Why do men get all the good ones?  What's an iguana to do?

"You know, Slatero . . . you don't mind if I call you Slatero, do you?" she continued.

The Bastard shook his head and then tightened his grip on me.  That hurt . . . a lot.  I think I squirmed, but I couldn't escape his death grip.  My scales are bruised.

Sinistra was still talking though, " . . . because I feel that I possess that sort of . . . intimacy with you."

What the hell was with all those pauses?  She sounded like she was too stupid to think up words as fast as they needed to come out of her mouth.  Was it supposed to be . . . sexy??

Anyway, the point of this story is that he made it worse.  That's why I hate him.  Not because he tried to kidnap me, but because he made it worse for Sinistra.  Much, much worse.

He started to imitate Quirrell.  And he did a pretty good job of it, if I do say so myself.

"Y…y…yes, A…Auriga."

Oooooh, that Bastard.

"And I feel compelled to tell you that I've never felt such a . . ." (those stupid pauses again) "chemistry with someone before.  Not like this."

I wish I could have squeaked loud enough to make her realize that something was wrong.  The poor girl was digging herself deeper and deeper into this hole of embarrassment and let me tell you, nothing was going to get her out of this one.

"O…oh…oh r…really?" Snape continued, still doing that amazing impression of Quirrell

"Yes," she purred.  And trust me on this, kids, she most certainly was purring.  "Do you feel that . . . spark between us, Slatero?"

I figured that would be the end.  I didn't think Snape could keep from laughing after that, but the Bastard managed somehow.

"Y…yes."

She said something about fantasizing about him at that point and I turned out just a little bit because the idea of Sinistra fantasizing about my master is too wonderful and too horrible for words at the exact same time.  It's what I wanted, isn't it?  But on the other hand, HE'S EVIL and he'd probably kill her as opposed to taking her out for a nice dinner.

I did, unfortunately, hear Sinistra asking 'Slatero' to kiss her and Snape's response had to be the worst of the entire episode.

"W…w...well, Auriga, I … I …" and that was when the Bastard finally burst into laughter.  "I have no doubt in my mind that you are the most pathetic seductress I have ever encountered."

Why do I find it so hard to believe that, besides Sinistra's mistake, Snape has _ever encountered another seductress?_

Back to the unfolding drama at hand.  I was expecting all sorts of wonderful comebacks from Sinistra, perhaps a flying coffee mug that she had hidden in her robes, but I was sorely disappointed.  She had absolutely nothing.

She said (and I quote), "You're not Quirrell."

She fled the room and Snape stayed there, squeezing the life out of me and laughing hysterically.  I could barely breathe, so I did the only thing I could do.

I peed on him.

Buahahaha.

That'll teach him.  Or, at least, it'll force him to finally take a shower.


	6. A Prince in Iguana's Clothing

**Disclaimer:  I still don't own the characters.  Except maybe Herman.  No, wait, Nita or Dia owns him.**

**Notes:  I'm very sorry this chapter has taken so long.  I was suffering through a month long bout of insane writer's block and have only recently (as in last night) been able to write again.  Enjoy.**

**-Part Six –**

**Monday, September 9, 1991******

**9:56 A.M.******

**Cage**

Dum dum dum dum … la la la la … I am the happiest iguana alive.  Hmm hmmm hmmm … wait a second …I'm singing to a journal.  Singing to a _journal.  _

…

…

This fanfiction is really starting to make me insane.  Not that I wasn't insane before, of course, but now I think I've even more insane than I ever was before.

Did you know that I peed on Mr. I'm-So-High-And-Mighty-Because-I'm-A-Big-Bad-Slytherin?  

Well, I did.  And if you don't know that, there's something incredibly wrong with you as the entire school knows about it.  Every single person down to ... to … Whimmy the house elf knows about it.

So if _you_ don't even know about the most important experience of my entire life, if _you can't even be bothered to pay attention to my very important exploits, then I suppose we're just not as close as we'd originally thought, are we?_

**10:01 A.M.******

Did I really just argue with my journal?

**10:04 A.M.******

I did.

Good Lord, save me.

**11:53 A.M.******

Since our little argument I have decided to forgive you only because I have very important news to write in here.  Yes, I said I'd forgive you.  Be overcome with gratitude, inanimate object, and weep pathetically at my tiny green feet.

Err … right.  My important news.

Apparently Sinistra hasn't left her Astronomy tower all day long.  Quirrell said that she had breakfast sent up to her so that her 'work' wouldn't be interrupted.

Hah!

Work.  What work?

… Oh, right.  She's a professor.  I keep forgetting these little details.

**9:05 P.M.******

**Hallway**

Decided to escape my bonds and see exactly what was wrong with poor Sinistra.  I thought that she might need a little cheering up from yours truly.  I am, after all, rather cheery.

… When I'm not squeaking or peeing on things, that is.

Damned Dumbledore.

… Right, where was I?

Oh, yes, I was going to see Sinistra.  I thought I'd stop by the kitchens and bring her tea or something nice to eat.  Like … like that lovely mint meringue Quirrell told me they had after dinner tonight.  I wasn't quite sure how I was going to carry it and walk at the same time, but I figured the house elves would be intelligent enough to strap some sort of carrying contraption to my back, wouldn't they?

… Well, wouldn't they?

Anyway, the point is this:  As I was struggling up the stairs to her tower she came running past me, her hair all wild and all over the place.  She looked very distressed.

It was quite sexy.

I mean it was … alarming.  That's it.  It was alarming.

Alarming.

Right.  Sinistra's distress is alarming.  Alarming.

Alarming.

Shut up!  It was too alarming.

Anyway … I keep getting off topic.  The point of this entry is not how se-alarming her distress was, it was that she almost smushed me.  I know it's shocking, but she did.  I squeaked with all my might but her foot came down rather close to my head and then she slammed the door behind me, leaving me locked out on the stairs.

Bloody hell.  It had only taken me an hour to climb up, but now I have to climb back down.

Bloody hell.

**9:34 P.M.******

I fell down the damned stairs.

That is all.

**9:44 P.M.******

My toes hurt.

**9:59 P.M.******

**Hallway near the dungeons**

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-gasp-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

He has her diary.

The complete Bastard has Sinistra's diary.  I just saw him duck onto the dungeon staircase with it clutched in this claw-like grip.  (Trust me, I've been clutched by him, I know that grip can be quite claw-like.)

And how did I know it was Sinistra's, you may be asking?  Well, because it had her bloody name written on the front cover.  Who the hell throws away a diary with her name displayed proudly on the cover?

…

…

Perhaps I ought to erase the 'Herman E. Iguana' I wrote on you earlier, hmmm?

**10:09 P.M.******

I've been here for quite some time debating if I should go after him and try to save the diary.  It would be very noble and perhaps Sinistra would reward me with a big kiss.

GASP!

Maybe I'm like one of those frogs who turn into princes when they've been kissed!

GASP!

Maybe I'm a world savior trapped in the body of an iguana, just waiting for the right woman to come alone and give me the kiss of true love before I can be returned to my former state and save the world from the eeeeevil Dark Lord and sweep said woman away for a ocean side marriage and a life full of joy and happiness.

Wow, that diary is worth _everything _to me.

…

Meh, my toes still hurt.  There's no way I'm tackling more stairs tonight.

**Thursday, September 12, 1991******

**2:12 P.M.******

**Cage**

Have just discovered most perplexing news.  Apparently Whimmy the house elf is in love with Sinistra too.

Honestly, this is just getting RIDICULOUS!

**2:15 P.M.******

I mean, what's an iguana to do?

**2:17 P.M.******

Not just any iguana, mind you.  A world saving prince trapped in the body of an iguana.  I'm just an iguana being pitted against a house elf and a greasy human for the love of a good woman.

**2:21 P.M.******

Ooh, boy, if I was in my prince form, they'd be completely blown out of the water.

Bastards. 

… Now, I wonder if I can get Quirrell to give me the kiss of true love to restore my former self.  He seems to like me enough to do it.

**4:16 P.M.******

My heart is broken.  My little heart is shattered in two.

Whimmy just came to visit me, the gloating bastard.

He said Sinistra kissed him and I knew at once that it was true.  He smelled like her.

Sigh.

I'm so depressed.  Can iguanas commit suicide?

**4:35 P.M.******

No, apparently they can't.

**5:16 P.M.******

Well, the good news is that Sinistra has her diary back, as I saw her scurrying back to her tower with it in her hands.

The other good news is that Harry Potter is the new Gryffindor Seeker.  Muahahahahaha!  If that news doesn't make Snape want to stick his head in a boiling bucket of slugs, I don't know what will.

The bad news is that I am still an iguana.

And lemme tell you, Quirrell is a very bad kisser.

That is all that needs to be said on this matter.

Excuse me while I go vomit.  


End file.
